<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Alii Inspiriti (DMC Edition) by whatsanapocalae</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364024">Alii Inspiriti (DMC Edition)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae'>whatsanapocalae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Devil May Cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bathing/Washing, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Dildos, F/M, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Art, Pegging, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex Toys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:28:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fics inspired by fanart for Devil May Cry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dante &amp; Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero &amp; Vergil (Devil May Cry), V/Lucia (Devil May Cry)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Table of Contents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Table of Contents</p>

<p>Chapter 2: (rated T with mild gore) Vergil comes home with some bad news but just needs some comfort from his family before he can even touch on it. Inspired by: https://umikochannart.tumblr.com/post/183630127852/your-wholesome-family-content</p><p>Chapter 3: (Rated E) Lucia comes home from a mission and ravishes V. Inspired by: https://twitter.com/LouNightly/status/1276359228161241089?s=20</p><p>Chapter 4: (Rated G) Nero finds V, all alone, locked in a prison overrun with demons. Inspired by: https://twitter.com/3nrrr1/status/1295021815685881858?s=20</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inspired by https://umikochannart.tumblr.com/post/183630127852/your-wholesome-family-content</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vergil, even after everything he'd gone through, pain after pain and trial after trial, was still a powerful man who held himself to high standards, with a straight back and a wicked glean to his eyes. So when he staggered into Devil May Cry, eyes bleary and on the floor, covered in blood and viscera, that meant something. His breathing was ragged and he was using Yamato more like a cane than a sword, but he could still walk, could still carry himself to safety, or he would have opened a portal directly to his bedroom. </p><p>Portals inside Devil May Cry were against the rules. Portals drew attention and Dante didn't want to have to fight anymore demons inside his shop than he had to. </p><p>So he'd opened a portal down the street and limped the rest of the way home. His leg had been half torn off and walking on it was agony but he'd gone through worse, he knew that he had and his hip was almost back in place by the time he'd gotten the door open. Holding his insides inside of him with one hand while he did everything else with the other was much more difficult. </p><p>Dante threw him a slight wave from his desk, nose still in the magazine that he'd been reading when Vergil left a few hours ago. It was Vergil's lack of response that got his attention and the Vergil had all of it, Dante reaching him in an instant, hands on his arms, supporting him, keeping him from crashing to the floor. </p><p>"Hey, do you mind?" he leered, moving Vergil's hand away from his torn open gut and putting things back where the belonged before applying pressure, making Vergil hiss. "I just mopped this floor!" </p><p>He hadn't. Vergil knew that. </p><p>Dante's hand was in his hair though, making red dust fall as the dried blood cracked and the hair was pushed out of his face. "You need help?" </p><p>Yes. Yes, yes yes, he needed help. Everything hurt so badly, and it wasn't just because he'd just been eviscerated. He was healing slower than he was used to because there was so much damage, it was still happening, underneath the surface. And his mind was racing, he could hardly focus on what Dante was saying, the pain was the only thing grounding him, keeping him from screaming from the terror that was happening in his mind. </p><p>"I just. I need a shower." </p><p>He was hoping that Dante would help him, even unasked, to the bathroom, that he'd be left there to take care of this himself. As much fear as was coursing through him, he couldn't stand the idea of Dante being there for him. In Hell, Dante had been there the entire time and he hadn't said anything when it was Vergil's turn to rest for a few minutes because anything longer than that would result in nightmares. Dante had been there after, when Vergil tried to find some kind of space for himself in the world of the living, never complaining in a way that mattered but giving Vergil a home in Devil May Cry when he found life among humans lacking. Yet he could not ask Dante for assistance in so many words. </p><p>What he wasn't expecting was for Dante to hoist him up in his arms, for him to allow Vergil to rest his head on Dante's shoulder, as he carried Vergil up the stairs and to the restroom. He didn't mind that Vergil was getting blood all over him. He didn't say a word about how tightly Vergil was gripping Yamato, even though he was no longer using it. He didn't even mention how tightly Vergil was clutching at his jacket, as if he were afraid he'd be dropped unceremoniously, when Dante wouldn't dare to let go of him for an instant. </p><p>He was settled down on the toilet as Dante wiped down the bathtub with a wad of toilet paper. Dante didn't seem bothered at all as he started to run the water, testing it with his hand. </p><p>"I don't need a bath," Vergil stated, his voice sounding quiet, even to him. </p><p>"With how much of a mess you are? I'd say you do," Dante decided, "Plus, if you fall down in the shower I'm not coming to help you, old man." </p><p>"We're the same age," Vergil tried to laugh but that cold dark rumbling laughter filled his head at the attempt. </p><p>"Nu-uh. If you're going to hold those seven minutes over my head, I'm going to hold them over yours too."</p><p>The water ran. Dante left for a moment to go to the linen closet, to grab a fresh towel and plush bathrobe that Vergil had never seen before. He put them on the counter, next to the sink. </p><p>"You got the job done though, right? You know how much I hate cleaning up after you." </p><p>Vergil gave him a smile, or as close to a smile as he could attempt at the moment. "I wouldn't have come back if the job wasn't done." </p><p>Dante put his hand on Vergil's shoulder, pushing him back. Vergil let him, his hip only barely clicking. Dante tutted before moving the remnants of Vergil's vest out of the way, to see the damage in his stomach. There were still some red spots but most of it was healed over. The clothes he'd take care of later, when he had the energy to repair them. </p><p>"Kind of a hack and slash job. Don't tell me you needed your little brother's help?" </p><p>"Don't flatter yourself," Vergil said, knocking Dante's hand away and standing up. Doing so made him immediately dizzy and he wished that he hadn't. He put his hand on the counter to stabilize himself. "He distracted me is all." </p><p>Dante raised an eyebrow. "You want to talk about it?" </p><p>Yes. "No." Vergil shrugged off his long, once blue coat, dumping it in the sink next to the clean  comfort. "Not yet." </p><p>"Okay, I'll leave you to it then." </p><p>And then he was alone. It was obvious where his coat had been, all the gore on him designated to a specific spot, clean where the iconic garment had absorbed the gore. He couldn't fit everything in the sink so he placed more of his clothes on the toilet and then carried himself and Yamato to the tub. </p><p>The water felt thick with surface tension and he sighed as his muscles let him know how abused they'd been. Being thrown through a brick wall would do that. Yamato rested on the side of the tub, easily grabbed if he needed it. He didn't. He was safe here. He slid further into the water, already pink, so only his face was above the water. He breathed. Even his lungs felt bruised. </p><p>That thing, holding him, third arm shoved deep into him, twisting his skin and then pulling free the ribbons of his insides, had laughed that deep deep laughter of something that though it had won. He was distracted, that was true, but not by the demon's actions. It was his words. </p><p>"He's coming back," the demon told him, face nothing more than three eyes, red, blue, and purple, blinking one after another and haloed in black oily feathers. "Seed of Sparda, your master is coming back for you and through you. Don't mind me, I'm just the messenger and the message is a new seed." </p><p>He had opened his mouth, a long many toothed gob that rode down his throat, and a long thick tongue had forced itself past Vergil's grit teeth, down into his throat, and spat poison into his body. </p><p>He was shaking. The water was so hot but he felt cold. He dragged his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The water was red now. It was so red. </p><p>A spasm went up his back and he started to gag. He heaved and coughed. There was something in him. That seed, that poison, whatever that demon had put inside of him. He didn't fight it, as much as he could, shoving his fingers under his stomach and pushing up, used his hands to push the mass out of himself out of his body and into the water. </p><p>It was an orb or feathers, oil, and shadow. It spread out as darkness into the water before him. He kicked it away from himself, throat aching from the size of it, and used his foot to pop open the drain. He didn't know what the black ooze would do if it touched him and he didn't want to find out. It went down the drain easily enough though. </p><p>He got to his feet, coughing, spasming, shivering. His insides still hurt but it was different now. </p><p>"You'll be the door from Hell to bring our master back." That was what he had said. </p><p>He turned on the shower, finally starting to clean himself, though it was tough work. He just wanted to lean against the wall of the shower and feel the water pelting him. He sniffed a bit but he did not cry. He did not feel the urge to, even through the pain and the fear, there was a coat around his mind of terrible numbness. </p><p>His soap smelled like oak and his shampoo smelled of cinnamon and together they made him feel like he was in a dark and comforting office, the kind that was a small library with an old leather chair. He didn't remember what Sparda smelled like but in his mind it was similar to this. He tried to focus on the smell, on the red still running down his body, on the blood he was washing out of his hair.</p><p>He could hear music from downstairs, some terrible thrash metal band that Dante liked. It was to give him some privacy, so he could cry if he needed to, but it was another thing that he could focus on. If he worked hard enough he could catch the words. If he worked hard enough he could possibly ignore the terror itching at him, the feel of those three eyes on him, the three other eyes on him at all times for so many years. </p><p>The shower did run cold eventually. He turned it off and didn't move, just stood there, feeling the cold set in once more. The music quieted down soon after that. Dante would be coming back, would see if he wanted to eat some of that trashy pizza that Dante was so fond of or something else that would force him to pretend to be normal. He didn't want to be normal. He wanted to be held and comforted and told that, no matter what happened, he wasn't going to be abandoned to Mundus. He wanted to know that, this time, he wouldn't have to face Mundus alone. He didn't want to face Mundus at all. </p><p>He put on the robe, hoping that he wouldn't get any blood on it. He left the bathroom before Dante could get there, though he was still in the hall, just turning from the stairs. He was wearing his usual clothes, a worn henley and that red leather coat. It was a bit of normalcy. All of Devil May Cry should have been by now but somehow, seeing his brother coming towards him made him feel a bit better. </p><p>Vergil wanted to reach out. He wanted to grab a hold of Dante. He wanted to bury his head in Dante's shoulder and hold him so tightly and he wanted to just purge everything. Dante deserved that, deserved the truth, deserved to hear Vergil's remorse and regret, hear him beg for forgiveness, hear the truth. Vergil wanted to be weak. </p><p>Dante looked him over and squinted. "You're soaking wet, you forget what a towel's even for?" </p><p>Vergil didn't move, eyes on the stairs, mind both full and empty at the same time. Dante grabbed the towel from the counter and unfolded it, draping it over Vergil's head and shoulders. He scrunched it a little bit to collect some of the water. </p><p>Without Vergil saying anything Dante had no reason to stay. He had no clue that Vergil wanted him to stay. He couldn't guess at any of the things that Vergil needed, so desperately to get out. </p><p>"Dry your hair or you'll catch a cold." He turned to walk away. If he did that Vergil would be alone. He would stand there, for hours, not able to will himself to do anything. He'd never frozen with it came to fight or flight, it was always so obvious that he'd take the most violent approach. He couldn't do that here. This fear wasn't tangible. </p><p>"Dante," he called out, reaching, not knowing what he was going to say, what he was going to do. His hand went around Dante's wrist though and he held it, as tight as a ghost. If Dante wanted to escape he could and Vergil was too weak to do anything about it. He was too weak to even ask him for the help he so desperately needed. </p><p>Dante had turned though and was looking at him, waiting. Dante had never been patient. So much had changed. He was waiting for Vergil to explain himself. He forced his head up, made contact through the strand of wet white hair that had fallen over his vision. He didn't look like himself, he knew that, but he also didn't feel like himself. </p><p>"Could you stay with me a little longer?" he asked and his voice didn't sound like his either. He sounded like a weak and frightened child and he hated himself for it. </p><p>Dante's face changed to, all the tension, the bad joke that he kept in his mouth at all times in case he needed a quick getaway, fell to the side. It wasn't pity in its stead, in the gaze that flickered over Vergil's face, but concern and a kindness that Vergil didn't feel he'd earned. </p><p>"Yeah," Dante whispered, coming closer, running a hand along Vergil's back so that he was boxed in, Dante's arm around him to support him. It felt good to be touched, even by someone who he'd though of as his enemy for so many years. "Let's get you to bed, okay? You look like you need it." </p><p>He didn't want to go to bed. He didn't want to lay there and think about Mundus, what the demon had said, or how he was going to hurt his family, after he'd tried so hard to change, all over again. He let Dante lead him to bed, Dante's bed, the bigger of the two, and into it, tucking him in on one side. It made him feel like a child and he wanted to protest it but then Dante was climbing in on the other side. </p><p>Dante didn't stare at him, didn't force awkward eye contact. His eyes were on Vergil's chin as his breathing settled, almost too loud, as if leading Vergil's breathing to match his. Vergil didn't fight that, allowed himself to match, finding his heart rate slowing down with it. </p><p>He didn't want to ask why Dante was doing this for him. It felt like a spell that, when questioned would break. He had done so much to Dante, so much because of Dante, and so much to the world that Dante had had to clean up. It was his fault that the world was as much of a mess as it was. He had killed so many humans. Dante just took it in stride, most of the time.</p><p>They hadn't slept like this since they were kids and, after a while, it was sleep that they both fell into. Dante had fallen asleep first, he always did, but as children there wasn't the vulnerability to it. Now, Vergil could kill him in his sleep. There had been so many times in his life in which he'd wanted to. </p><p>Yamato was still leaning against the bathtub and the realization that he was unarmed, that he himself was vulnerable, almost jerked him out of bed. He'd never gone without Yamato, not anywhere, since he'd gotten it back from Nero. Stolen it back, while traumatizing and putting his son into a coma, more like. </p><p>He didn't want to wake Dante up though. He wanted to be vulnerable, wanted to be allowed to be vulnerable, knowing that he was safe. </p><p>He fell asleep with his face mere inches from Dante's. </p><p>Someone was shouting but it was quiet, far away, not directed at him. He couldn't tell really, if it was even coming from inside Devil May Cry or the street outside. It was getting louder though and he curled in, getting a bit closer to Dante. He was sleeping well, for the first time in years, and he didn't want to be stirred. </p><p>The yelling did stop, at least. </p><p>Vergil fell back asleep. He couldn't tell if it was an hour or a few seconds when there was the rustling of fabric behind him and mumbled something that even he couldn't comprehend as the bed dipped a little. </p><p>He opened his eyes. Dante hadn't stirred so it wasn't danger. They were still safe. Even though he was the older one, even though it was always his duty to keep Dante safe as a kid, he had grown to feel like it was Dante that was his protector, his guardian, at least recently. </p><p>The sun was still out, coming through the window. He breathed. There was a weight behind him and he should have been up and ready to fight, should have expected an attack but it hadn't come. He rolled onto his back and looked down, found Nero, back from his own hunt, kneeling beside the bed. His arms were folded, one sleeve of his coat torn off from when Vergil had attacked him, and his head was resting on them. </p><p>He was just a boy. Yes, he was older than Vergil had been when he became a father, when he had to give Nero up, but Nero was still just a boy. He was too young for everything he'd seen and done and had done to him. </p><p>Vergil reached out to him. He was asleep, right there on the floor. There were other beds in Devil May Cry, one of which was done up with pink and had chiffon curtains, looking like it belonged to a little girl, but Vergil was too afraid of Dante's reaction to ask about that one. There were other places that Nero could have gone to rest but he'd chosen here, on the floor, at Vergil's side. </p><p>He'd never been a good father. Given Nero up to the orphanage was probably the best thing he had ever done for him. But Nero had opened up his heart to Vergil, let him come back home. Dante had too. </p><p>They'd both sacrificed so much for him. He lowered his hand, resting it gently on Nero's head. Never in his life had he thought that he'd have a family that was so willing to take him in, with his thorns and poisonous fruit. He would do better for them. He had to. He wouldn't survive losing them now that he had them.<br/>
He would tell them, when they woke up, of the storm that was brewing. He wouldn't bother them quite yet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inspired by: https://twitter.com/LouNightly/status/1276359228161241089?s=20</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>V had barely come through the door before he was shoved up against it, the wood slamming back behind him. His knee buckled but there were hands on his hips keeping him steady, lips against his own, and he didn't worry about falling. The demon against him purred into his mouth, so much smaller than him, so much more powerful, and he felt the rush of her control against him. </p><p>"Impatient, aren't we?" he asked between kisses, Lucia's lips trailing down his jaw and to his neck. </p><p>"It's been a full week," she whimpered into his ear, "I've missed you." </p><p>She rutted against his thigh and he moaned, feeling the hard rubber pressing against the inside of her leggings. She was ready for him. Good thing he was for her as well. </p><p>Lucia chuckled as she pulled back, looking him over. "And do not pretend that you were all that patient; I found my replacement in our bed." </p><p>That brought color to his cheeks. He'd bought the toy a full day after she'd left on a mission on a whim, he already had quite a collection but this one was larger, flashier, than anything he'd had before. </p><p>"Jealous?" he murmured, bringing his hands up and into her hair, the red hair getting stuck almost immediately in one of his rings. He took them off and put them in his pocket to prevent any further damage. </p><p>"I thought we'd invite it to join us, actually," she teased, running her hands up his sides, under his oversized shirt. He hissed as how cold her hands were, his ribs shuddering at the sensation. "Take off your clothes." </p><p>Another shudder danced through him. There was something about being told what to do, it should have made him feel lowly, should have made him terrified, but he loved it instead. <br/>Perhaps it was the fact that he trusted her, that he knew she wouldn't hurt him unless he asked her to and when he had asked her to it was always for him, not against him. </p><p>She took his cane from him as she took a step back, giving him the space he needed to strip off his shirt and kick off his sandals before pulling down his skinny black jeans, tossing them to the bed from where he was. His glove was the last thing to go and then he was nude and willing, standing there with his back still against the door, tired eyes hooded and pupils dilated. </p><p>Lucia whistled her approval as she stepped back into his space, pressing a hand to his throat and using it to hold him against the door once more. Her other hand danced over his stomach and ribs, a thumb brushing over his nipple, as she watched his reactions. His head lolled and his hips jutted forward, asking without words, as he wet his lips with his tongue. <br/>Her hand went lower, not pleasuring his hard and heavy cock but rolling his balls in her cold palm and wrapping her fingers around his length as if she were appraising him. </p><p>"Doesn't take much to get you wet for me, does it?" she asked; already knowing the answer. </p><p>"Please..." he whispered. </p><p>"Turn around," she ordered, "let's see how much you can take." </p><p>He did as he was told, in no mood to fight, in no mood to receive teasing or punishment. It had been a full week and yes, he'd used toys and kept himself open and available at all times, but he couldn't touch himself like she did. It never felt as good. He needed her. </p><p>He rested his shoulders against the door so he could reach back and spread his cheeks for her, reveal the thick rubber plug he'd gone to the library with. </p><p>"Oh you really are impatient," she chuckled, reaching up and pressing on the base of the plug, making him whimper as the bulb rubbed against his prostate. "and a bit of a whore, what if someone had realized you were like this? Ready for anything." </p><p>He shuddered. He didn't want anyone else. He just felt so empty without something in him. </p><p>He didn't have a chance to mention that as she pulled it out half way and then shoved it ruthlessly back in, making his his slam forward and his cock smear precum against the door as he moaned in surprised pleasure. </p><p>"Please" he hissed as she eased the plug out of him again, "please, please please." </p><p>"Please what?" she asked as she finally freed him of it, replacing the black rubber with her fingers, finding and rubbing gentle circles into his prostate, making him lose coherency so quickly. </p><p>"F-fuck. Please, Lucia," he whined, pushing his hips back, trying to get more, trying to keep his cock from touching the door. He didn't want to come yet, not without her inside him. <br/>"Please fuck me." </p><p>She pulled free of him and, hands on his hips again, turned him around. She looked up at him, into his eyes, and he brought his hands up, clasped them, in front of his mouth. He always felt so shy when she did this, this pause to check in on him, looking into his eyes as if she could see inside of him. He didn't know if that was possible, she wasn't human, it was perfectly possible that she could. </p><p>She left him, just for the moment, to watch as she pulled off her sweater, which had been big and bulky enough to hide the massive bulge in her leggings before she pulled those off as well. That left her in just a thick and clunky black harness that had the massive dildo V had just barely gotten accustomed to stuck in the front. It was like a Baphomet's tongue in shape, this large undulating spike with ridges on the side. Navy silicon with light lavender clouds through it. </p><p>He gulped. He wanted to slide down on his knees and let her fuck his throat with it. He hadn't tried it in his mouth yet, didn't see much of a point to it, but he wanted it to choke him, wanted to cry around it, show her how good and obedient he could be. He wanted to prove himself worthy. He knew she loved him but he still had that horrible urge in him to do everything he could to earn it. </p><p>Beside them was the coat rack and she reached into the pocket of her favorite one, pulling out a tube of lubricant. She had planned this then, this location. She wouldn't walk around with that in her pocket unless she had something planned. He stood and watched as she poured a generous amount, possibly more than he needed, on the dildo and spread it over the silicon with her hand. </p><p>With her dry hand she ran her hand over his jaw, her hands starting to warm up but still a bit cool. She brought his lips down and kissed him, her touch soft and gentle and close. V's eyelashes fluttered as he closed his eyes and let her in, her tongue against his, her lips plump and soft and staining his with her dark lipstick. One leg was hoisted up over her hip and he was stuck on his bum leg but he knew that he wouldn't fall, she wouldn't let him. </p><p>He didn't care about breathing, he just wanted her, wanted her lips against his, wanted that pressure. She was chuckling against his lips and his mouth fell open wider, as if she had more to place inside his mouth. It made it easy for the moan to slip free as the head of the dildo slid inside of him. It was so easy, the front half nice and narrow as it slowly spread out so wide. <br/>Still his head dropped back as the sensation of being filled claimed him. </p><p>She released his face and grabbed his other thigh, lifting him completely as she pushed deeper inside of him. He threw his arms out instinctually, even though he was pinned between her and the door, was safe, just to keep his balance. The moment made his hips jerk forward and the dildo to slide deeper nad he moaned at the pleasure of it. </p><p>"I got you," Lucia promised, wrapping an arm around him, letting his leg swing wildly before he wrapped it around her. She kept him secure, kept him safe. He hadn't realized how, over the week he'd felt like he was floundering. </p><p>His hand was back in her hair as she shushed him, kissing his ear, moving slowly, back and forth into him. </p><p>"You want me to fuck you?" she asked, kissing his hair, nails scratching at his back. </p><p>He couldn't ask, he couldn't beg. He could just nod and put a hand on the wall so that she wouldn't knock him against the door too hard. </p><p>And she fucked him, slamming her hips back and forth, making him cry out and shudder. She was so strong, holding him up and fucking him and hardly breaking a sweat as he was overheating. He couldn't stop moaning and whining, loving how she felt. </p><p>"You want more?" she asked and he didn't know what that meant but he nodded anyway and she pushed in the rest of the way, until her skin was flush against his. He cried out, clinging to her, relishing in the burn of it, the way that the ridges rubbed up inside of him. He'd ridden it on his own, taken all of it, but it was nothing like this. He couldn't go this hard, this fast, on his own, he always had to focus on other needs, how his body could handle it. Lucia didn't need to do that. </p><p>"You need me to touch you?" she asked. </p><p>He shook his head. He didn't need anything, just more of this. </p><p>He tugged on her hair, just a little, just to get her to pull back to look at him. She kept fucking him through it but she did turn to look at him, eyes trailing over the redness in his cheeks and his blown pupils, his puffy kiss swollen lips. He knew his expression was twisted, that his white hair was stuck to his forehead, but he wanted her to see him like this, how much of a mess she made him, how much he adored her. </p><p>He was panting, his sounds these tight little sounds, completely out of control. He was shaking. He wanted to speak, to tell her what he needed, but he didn't even know what it was. </p><p>But she knew. </p><p>She brushed his hair away from his face, kissed the edge of his lips and whispered to him, "You're so beautiful like this." </p><p>He grit his teeth as she kissed him, as she angled her hips and the dildo inside of him just so, and he came, ejaculating on her chest. She held him there, in that moment, for a full minute, letting him breathe, a roll of the silicon against his prostate until the heartbeat in his cock faded and he could breathe again. </p><p>"Good," she praised, a small smile to her lips, "You did so good." </p><p>She helped him get his feet under him, pulling the massive toy out of him as she did. He stumbled, unable to hold himself up after such an ordeal and she tightened her grip on him. She helped him to the bed and laid him down, kissing down his chest and arms. </p><p>"You did such a good job for me," she continued, "I missed you, you know?"</p><p>"I missed you as well," he murmured, too tired to raise his voice. "I'd like to-</p><p>She shook her head, "Catch your breath first. I'll ride your face later."</p><p>He couldn't stop but give her a toothy grin at that and wove their fingers together. He was meant to rest and she was meant to clean things up, he could tell by how she held the dildo that she was ready to go to the bathroom and wipe things down, but he didn't want to let go of her, not yet. </p><p>"I love you," he said, and then there was a moment of panic, even though he knew her answer so well. </p><p>"As I do you."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Inspired by: https://twitter.com/3nrrr1/status/1295021815685881858?s=20</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nero cleaved through the Frost, shoving himself forward, Red Queen's flame making the demon melt even before they were fully cut through. He pushed past it, towards the next, a Fury, that had red on its talons that reeked of fresh blood. Somewhere he was aware of Dante and Vergil, in another room to this dilapidated coven. It had been a prison, at some point, but now it was half a ruin, and the witches had moved in to create chaos. He didn't know if the Hell Gate was of their design or if they had dug it up but it was a good guess that such a thing was the reason the prison had been shut down in the first place. </p><p>He didn't want to be here. He hadn't wanted to split up either, but Dante was certain that they would be able to clear the place out and find the Hell Gate faster if they were split up. They would have been too crowded, he and Dante both had such showy fighting styles that these narrow corridors and tiny cells would just get them tangled up in each other. </p><p>Still, he wanted to be there. </p><p>There was something wrong with Vergil. </p><p>Nero had noticed it a few days ago but he was sure that Dante had been aware of it even sooner. He was fine, there were the constant fights that he was breaking up and the weird half conversations that Vergil seemed to be incapable of progressing past but then the light had faded from Vergil's eyes, all at once, and he was just tired, spending time alone, not coming down to eat with them or out to fights. It seemed like he was battling the kind of depression that claimed Dante between missions but it was more than that too, he was catty, mean, when they were able to get him to talk, and his voice was all wrong, too deep, too slow, too loud. It wasn't him at all. He sounded like Urizen. </p><p>There was a scathing claw, an inch away from Nero's face and he backed up, kicking out and getting away from the attack with a small flip that was probably more than a little bit of a show. Dante had taught him though that nothing was worth doing if it wasn't done stylishly. When he landed on his feet, he tossed the Red Queen forward, spinning it from the ripcord around his finger, the momentum making it spin through the demon's chest, knocking away the scales. From there it was as easy as slamming the sword into the weakened point, hands around the hilt as if it were a bat. He cleaved through it and the Empusa that thought it could sneak up on him. </p><p>That left only the little guys, which he could take care of with his blue rose without an issue. He could hear something, more than just the fighting in the other room, punctuated with Dante's shouting of whatever style he was in. He thought it was the pipes at first, the old building unable to keep up with the violence within it. But as he killed the last of them he was aware that it wasn't the pipes or the creaking of panels or the collapsing of support beams. It was a person. </p><p>"Hello?" he called out, flicking the Red Queen a few times to get the blood off before he put it on his back. He didn't move towards the sound, well aware that things that sounded human weren't always. Sirens, elite demons, sorceresses, they could sound human. This sounded male though, so he didn't think it was one of those. "Is someone there?" </p><p>The sniffling stopped, replaced with a voice, a little bit of hope coming through. "Are you one of them?" </p><p>"You asking if I'm a demon?" he looked around but couldn't see anyone. There was a row of cells, all with their doors half or more broken off. "That depends on who you ask." </p><p>"I'm the one asking," the voice came again and it sounded familiar, though weaker than anyone Nero had met. He couldn't quite figure out who they were through, the voice was warbled, almost as if it were underwater. </p><p>"I'm human. In all the ways that matter. What about you?" </p><p>"Terribly so." </p><p>"Where are you?"</p><p>"I'm trapped in one of these cells," the voice explained, "There's no door but there is a barrier and I cannot force my way through." </p><p>Nero went closer to the cells and it wasn't just the shadows that made it hard to see inside of them. There was a magical shroud over them, specifically the last of them, which had a sigil spray painted onto the floor. Half of it was in the cell, the other on his side. </p><p>"Well I found the lock," Nero explained. He peered into the darkness of the cell. He could see a shape inside, among the darkness. The shape was roughly humanoid, small and curled in on itself in the corner of the room. It was impossible to tell anything more than that. "You have any idea why a coven of witches wanted you?" </p><p>"You are trying to decide if I deserve to be released, that's smart of you. They took me to weaken another, to understand how I work, possibly to destroy someone who means everything to me." </p><p>Riddles, of course, but this person knew him just as well as he knew them.</p><p>He drew Red Queen again and smashed it down into the ground a few times, aiming for the same part of the sigil with each swing. He was able to crack the stone that it was painted onto and, with only a few red scales growing over his arms, pull the chunk out of the ground and toss it to the side. </p><p>The darkness barely even shimmered before it faded. The figure was a thin, too thin man, his ribs standing out against his flawless skin. His hair was shaggy and white and it was covering most of his face but Nero could see his handsome nose. Even without the tattoos, the black hair, the coat and corset vest, Nero recognized him. </p><p>"V?" </p><p>V looked up at him, eyes wide, lip slightly bloodied from where he'd been biting at it in his confinement. "Nero!" </p><p>He pulled himself up, took a step, and collapsed to the floor of the small cell. Nero was on him in an instant, helping him up, finding him shivering and weakened, the space around his eyes dark and swollen with lack of sleep. He was, at least, wearing his jewelry and pants, but his skin was so pale and cold to the touch. </p><p>"I can't believe you came for me," V whined, "Did you even know of me?" </p><p>"No idea," Nero admitted, "Vergil's been acting weird for a couple days and when Dante got wind of the Hell Gate being open over here he suggested we close it. </p><p>"And the witches?" </p><p>"Ran off before we got here." </p><p>V chuckled, that dark deep rumbling chuckle that Nero had missed all this time. "Of course. They dug too deep, found the truth beneath our feet."</p><p>"You know where the gate is?"</p><p>V nodded. "Though I fear I may not be of much use to you. As you can see I find myself without an entourage." </p><p>Nero put his hand under V's chin, tilted it up so that he could make eye contact with him. He was still shaking, he had a hand on the wall to keep him upright. Nero didn't know how long he'd been alone in here but any time had been too long. He'd missed V, he really had, for so long, but he'd thought, with Vergil in his life, that V wasn't really gone. He hadn't let himself mourn him because he technically had been there the whole time, other than the last few days. But now he was here. </p><p>A hand on his chin wasn't enough. Nero let himself break, to come forward and wrap his arms around V's broad shoulders. V's hands pushed back against him, not pushing away from him but wrapping around him under his coat, stealing his body heat as he clung close. </p><p>"I never thought I would see you again," Nero hissed, kissing the hair just about V's ear. </p><p>"I never thought I'd be seen," V admitted. "I could see you, I was there, until they pulled me out of Vergil, I could see how your relationship with your father was growing and I was so glad that it was happening, that you could have each other, that Vergil could embrace his humanity but, locked away in his head; it's not the same." </p><p>Nero pulled away, not wanting to but knowing that Dante and Vergil were still making their way through the prison and they didn't want to fall too far behind. He pulled off his coat and wrapped it around V's shoulders, seeing how it sagged around him, far too large in some ways and too small in others. It was hard to tell with V's posture but he was quite a bit taller than Nero. </p><p>He put his arm around V and pulled him away from the wall, holding him close. "C'mon, we don't want the old guys to beat us to the gate." </p><p>V curled in on himself, clutching at the sleeve of the coat. "I'll just slow you down. I'm no good in a fight. As I said, my demons have all gone." </p><p>Nero gave him a smile, pulling up the hood and rubbing V's hair through it, a little bit of friendly bullying, "Don't you worry about that, you're more than enough, all on your own." </p><p>"Am I?" V sounded distant, uncertain. </p><p>"Don't know if you've noticed but I grew up with humans, I'm barely more than one, and even though they're not all the things that half demons can be, they have all sorts of strengths, of worths, all on their own. And you, V? I'd want you around even if you didn't have an ounce of strength to you." </p><p>V bumped against him, hip to hip, purposeful, and if he hadn't pulled up the hood he would be sure to see that V had a little bit of blush to him. Of course, catching up with Vergil and Dante would probably be the end of V's return, but they had this talk and Nero now knew that he could see V again, that the top of the Qliphoth hadn't been the end of him.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>